


Reckless

by bloodsongs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, Exhibitionism, M/M, PWP, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Arthur stumbles across up-and-coming DJ Merlin Emrys in a club and decides to himself within seconds of their first flirtatious exchange to blow him on stage under the table.</p><p>"I've not known you for long, but you're kind of lovely," Merlin seems to conclude, and then he brightens. "You're also a bit of a prat," he adds as an afterthought, and before Arthur can protest indignantly, continues with: "Who's a little gorgeous, to boot."</p><p>"I'm going to ignore all the blatant slandering and instead focus on the compliments. You think I'm gorgeous, Merlin?" It doesn't feel strange to be standing so close to Merlin, to be already so drunk on someone so early in the night this way. </p><p>Merlin's expression is indulgent as it softens. "I really do," he says softly, lips nearly brushing Arthur's, just barely and not enough. "What are you going to do about it?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soraishida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraishida/gifts).



> So much for updating my WIPs. These smutty one-offs just keep writing themselves. Sorry, not sorry.

The beats ring loud and heavy, the bass waking something darker in his blood as Arthur dances with the girls who come up to him on the floor. A redhead smiles seductively at him before she turns around, raising her hands and moving against him, her body a taut sensual curve. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, apologetic, before he steps away.

He doesn't feel like pulling women tonight, Arthur thinks, restless as the music roars around him, a continuous wave. He wants a rough, hard fuck, wants sharp angles and a harsh mouth against his skin, a guttural voice breathy in his ear as someone slams him against a wall.

Nothing for it. This is a general queer club, usually, but it's a bit of a mix tonight. Arthur fishes for some change in his pocket and calls for another gin and tonic, flashes a grin when the regular bartender mouths an amused 'You again?' at him. He tips it back, shouts, "Cheers!" over the din and steps into a shadowed corner to survey the scene.

There're more people trailing in, smirking girls in plaid and skirts, boys in suits and open shirts. In the dim lighting, he can't tell who's who as the genders blur and the people mesh together, just moving to the music, and he loves that. 

He takes another quick gulp of his drink as he scans his surroundings, but no one's really catching his eye. Arthur's not really picky; his friends call him easy, but if he's looking for a tumble, he doesn't see why he should be too concerned with particulars especially if he pulls a bloke instead of a bird for the night. They're generally more open to one-offs and amiable goodbyes in the morning after a semi-decent fuck.

Arthur makes eye contact with a lean, shy-looking fellow leaning against the wall a while off and smirks, noting how the man smiles a little cheekily but hesitantly in return, raising an eyebrow as if in a dare. He'll take that invitation.

Yeah, all right, maybe he's a little easy, Arthur concludes as he walks over, but he's got standards: the man is darkly handsome, all messy cropped hair and lovely cheekbones. 

He’s a little on his guard, shoulders hunched in and just a little tense when Arthur reaches him, but he's got a carefully blank, default smile of sorts on when Arthur puts on his most charming smile and holds out his hand. "I'm Arthur."

"Merlin." He sounds pleasantly surprised, expectation and wariness falling away from him like a cloak. His hand is warm against Arthur's, his grip firm, and he doesn't let go immediately, looking at Arthur instead with no small degree of curiosity. Arthur blinks. The stranger looks familiar, but he can't really place him until the name registers.

"You're the one who — you're the DJ tonight," Arthur says, a little thrilled. He remembers overly Photoshopped images of Merlin on posters, black and white renderings of him and his taking the queer scene by storm, but he's never really paid attention to that. Arthur doesn’t really pay attention to the music either; if it’s upbeat, gets him dancing, gets him someone to take home for the night, he’s not too fussed.

Merlin starts and looks at Arthur intently again when he says that, as if trying to scrutinise him for sincerity, but breaks into a grin after. It's like he's happy that Arthur recognised him somehow, but didn't solely approach him because of his being well-known. His smile is shy and mischievous both, and Arthur leans a little closer, taking in the smoky smell of him. "Okay, so you didn't come to hit on me because you knew who I was. Now you know. So?"

"That's insanely hot." He's never really found DJs attractive, but the idea of Merlin up there on stage, working the turntable with his wiry, tattooed arms bared with a look of concentration on his face does something to his insides. 

"Got a type, have you?" Teasing, this edge of flirtatious.

Arthur gives it a shot. "Not really, but there's something about you."

Merlin hums. "A little clichéd, try again." Not arrogant or expectant, just really comfortable in his own skin, thumbs playing with the edge of his dark jeans' pockets. Still, Arthur can tell he's interested. He's not moved away, and his curious eyes don't leave Arthur's.

"Picky." He barks a laugh, and warmth curls in him when Merlin's eyes crinkle, soft. "What do you want, a grand declaration of my intentions?"

Rolling his eyes but still smiling, Merlin pulls him a little closer by the front of his shirt, and Arthur's just realised he's got a leather collar on. 

Fuck. He won't be thinking of anything else all night. 

Merlin catches him staring and smiles wider, pretends to look thoughtful. "To start, maybe," he says, and winks at Arthur before leaning in to whisper, almost conspiratorially, breath tickling Arthur's ear. "Like what you see?"

"Oh, it looks promising so far, but do I only get a sneak peek?"

"If you behave, there might be more in it for you."

"Rather forward of you, Merlin," Arthur replies, but he can't stop grinning now, his heart thumping madly in his chest. "What of my maidenly virtue?"

Pulling Arthur's hands up to hook around his neck, Merlin's lips brush Arthur's jaw, a quick whisper of movement. "Do you have any left to speak of?"

"I'll have you know that you are impugning me, good sir." 

Laughing, Merlin shoves at him, shaking his head. "Are you always this prim and proper when you're trying to pull?"

"What? I thought you were beginning to warm to my sense of humour." He places a hand on his chest dramatically, and Merlin chuckles. Arthur never really has had to try this hard to impress someone, and he's never bothered, but Merlin's compelling and magnetic and looking utterly kissable under the bright, frenzied lights of the room and Arthur just has a thing for tall and cocky beautiful, dark-haired men, okay.

"I've not known you for long, but you're kind of lovely," Merlin seems to conclude, and then he brightens. "You're also a bit of a prat," he adds as an afterthought, and before Arthur can protest indignantly, continues with: "Who's a little gorgeous, to boot."

"I'm going to ignore all the blatant slandering and instead focus on the compliments. You think I'm gorgeous, Merlin?" It doesn't feel strange to be standing so close to Merlin, to be already so drunk on someone so early in the night this way. 

Merlin's expression is indulgent as it softens. "I really do," he says softly, lips nearly brushing Arthur's, just barely and not enough. "What are you going to do about it?"

He wants so much to kiss him, to cross this small distance, to find out how it’s like. The night’s barely begun and all Arthur wants to do is to push Merlin properly against the nearest wall in some suitably secluded area (to pull him by that collar, really be _rough_ with him), take him in his mouth, and find out how he sounds like when he’s utterly debauched. Make that pretty face blush, kiss him senseless, growl in his ear about how much he'd like to have him.

Or... have things go the other way around. “Do you have anywhere to go after you’re done?”

“Not yet,” Merlin says, teasing. Minx.

“Do you want to do something about the state of my virtue, then?”

Laughing, Merlin slips a thumb under the collar of Arthur’s shirt, a light touch that feels like electricity. “An invitation. You’re awfully confident in yourself.”

“Don’t think you’re the sort who appreciates half-hearted requests. What do you say?” 

“You could convince me.”

“Oh?”

“Take that how you will.” Merlin winks, and tilts his head at the stage where an attractive, bespectacled brunette is standing over the turntable perched on a tall bench. “I’m up in a few, the other DJ’s hour is almost over. Want to come watch me do my thing?”

Arthur’s lips curve in a smile as an idea hits him; the bench’s massive, with dark cloth spilling down the sides. “I think I’ve a better idea.”

“Pardon?” Merlin looks at him quizzically, then shrugs and moves closer so he’s flush against Arthur, before he slips something into Arthur’s pocket. “I’ve an hour tonight since we’ve a few DJs after me, but call me once we’re done.”

Arthur grins, thinking how that won’t really be necessary. “Sure.” Convince Merlin? Challenge accepted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,  just back from international gigs in Melbourne and America, DJ Emrys!” The emcee roars as Merlin steps towards the turntable from behind some lofty  stacks of amplifiers and winks at the previous DJ. The crowd erupts. The other DJ leaves the stage but not after giving Merlin a considerable smack on his very fit, black denim-clad arse. “Give it up for Merlin, who’ll be bringing you some wicked beats tonight!”

“Thanks for having me,” Merlin says, voice smooth and deep. Arthur blushes at that for some reason, wondering what it’ll be like to have Merlin say things to him in his ear when they’re tangled together on some horizontal surface, bed optional. “Let’s get this party started.”

“Oh, we will.” Arthur slinks behind the amplifiers when he’s sure the others have left the stage and when people have started dancing to two, three of Merlin’s tracks. It’s dark enough on the stage where the lights are not shining down on Merlin occasionally, so it doesn’t take him long to slip unnoticed under the table. 

He’s not felt this adventurous since he was a teenager.

Blessing whoever thought of putting the turntable and all of Merlin’s equipment on such a towering piece of furniture, Arthur delicately untangles his foot from a mess of wires and crawls over to where he can see Merlin’s Converses.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says when he lifts the black tablecloth from above his head and winks up at Merlin.

Merlin has his headphones on, but Arthur reckons it’s difficult to miss someone emerging from under the table you’re standing in front of and lurking near your crotch. “Jesus, Arthur!” he hisses at him, gaping, and then flicks anxious glances about. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” Arthur settles on his knees and unbuttons his shirt a tad for air, taking note of the way Merlin’s eyes immediately go to his fingers and the expanse of skin he bares when the dark red cloth parts from his neck. Merlin’s still working the turntable, hands moving deftly as he stares incredulously at Arthur; good, Merlin multi-tasks. This should be interesting, then.

“You can’t just,” Merlin tries, helplessly, waving a hand and gesturing at Arthur and around them. “People will see, you little exhibitionist!”

He trails his hands up Merlin’s thighs. God, but he does love long legs. “Nobody’s really paying attention to anything beyond what they can see of you on stage.”

“They’ll _know_.” Merlin’s voice gives a little at that last word, and Arthur can practically hear his resolution crumbling the higher his fingers climb up Merlin’s jeans. “They’ll be able to tell.”

“Then you’ve just got to keep really still,” Arthur murmurs, leaning in as he undoes the lone button. “So they don’t find out.” He squeezes Merlin’s thighs while he drags the zipper down between his teeth, a trick that’s taken him several partners to perfect and a popular favourite that works on Merlin too if the way his breath quickens perceptibly is any indication.

Merlin stares down at him as Arthur breathes against his cock, already half-hard, and takes it out of his underwear. “You’re crazy.”

“You drive me crazy.” And Merlin does, with his stupid beautiful face and the way he’s all flushed now in the darkness when Arthur touches him, wraps his fingers around his cock and presses a kiss to the head. Merlin does, because he’s funny and so good-looking and Arthur can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to have him in a different setting, have his long legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist as he fucks into him, think about what it’s like if Merlin were to bend him over a desk and have his wicked way with Arthur. He does look the mouthy, pushy type. Arthur would like to see Merlin again, and again, and again, under all sorts of different circumstances and find out everything about this lovely, infuriating man. “Now, shut up.”

That gets a snort out of Merlin which quickly dissolves into a moan. “Make me.”

Arthur schools his expression into one of utmost innocence as he swirls his tongue around the head of Merlin’s long, flushed cock. “I would, but then, it’s not like you can afford to be noisy here, can you?”

“Bastard.”

“Just keep on playing,” Arthur says quietly, winking at Merlin again. “Business as usual, only with someone giving you a blowjob beneath the table. Carry on.” And then he takes Merlin entirely into his mouth with the ease of someone who’s given a lot of head and fucking loves doing it, confident that if this were any other situation, Merlin would’ve had a great deal of difficulty trying not to let his knees give way.

In this case, Merlin has no choice but to act like he’s not getting a blowjob of a lifetime while he’s working his DJ thing. Arthur’s thrilled, having this kind of control, and smirks to himself as he hums and plays with Merlin’s balls, laving at the hot skin in his mouth. There’s something heady and addictive about the dark, musky scent between someone’s thighs, and Arthur’s not even going to pretend he doesn't get off on it.

Merlin nearly bucks at one point, but Arthur shoots him a warning glance and locks an arm around Merlin’s knees, grasps Merlin in place with a hand. He pulls off briefly to say softly, “Keep still. It’s going to be pretty obvious if you start fucking into my mouth, idiot.”

“Prat,” Merlin manages.

“Ooh, talk dirty to me with your insults.” Arthur licks up and around Merlin’s cock, fisting him tight enough to hurt, just this edge of pleasurable, with a hint of teeth. He’s not sure what Merlin’s preferences are in this department, but he’s never had any complaints. When he takes Merlin deeper and swallows, Merlin actually lets out a choked-off gasp above him and cards his fingers into Arthur’s hair, pulling and pushing him down, a finger brushing the edge of Arthur’s ear tenderly.

There’s nothing tender about the way Arthur’s subjecting Merlin to his ministrations about now; he sets a rhythm, permitting Merlin to move against him, winces a little until he can take Merlin in, his lips wrapping around the base of Merlin's cock. It’s exhilarating. He’s never thought of himself as an exhibitionist until Merlin mentioned it, but maybe Arthur’s a little twisted for entertaining the possibility of someone finding them like this: Arthur on his knees, blond hair wet with sweat and plastered to his face, lips wrapped obscenely around Merlin’s cock as Merlin clutches the edges of the table when he’s not mixing, breath coming in short shallow gasps. Arthur palms his erection through his pants, mentally judging himself for liking the idea.

“Arthur,” Merlin cries brokenly after a while, because Arthur might be a bit of a sadist who likes to pull off right when he can sense Merlin’s close to the edge, and because he’s parting Merlin’s legs slightly so he can mouth down Merlin’s cock to lick at his balls. “Just let me fucking come.”

He makes a show of pausing to think while twisting his grip about the head, swiping his thumb over the slit, making Merlin’s moans stutter to a stop from sheer pleasure. “How long more until you get off the stage?” He asks hoarsely; he barely recognises his own voice.

Merlin shudders, biting down on his trembling bottom lip. Arthur vaguely wonders if he’s a screamer. “Another two songs.”

“Then I won’t let you come until you finish,” he says triumphantly, lacing his words with a trace of authority. “Don’t even fucking think about it until I tell you to.” Merlin whimpers, his knees shaking, and Arthur brushes small kisses all the way up to Merlin’s cock, cradling it against his cheek and letting it leave a trail of precome down his cheekbones and back to his mouth where he has a quick suck, lets a flash of tongue dance on Merlin’s wet, heated skin and returns to teasing Merlin.

Arthur appreciates a quickie just as much as the next bloke, but now he has Merlin wrecked and at his disposal; he might as well make the most of it. Some of his lovers hate it when he’s in the mood to draw it out, teasing and rough and unbearably long, but they probably just dislike the idea of foreplay. Merlin looks about ready to murder him, but Arthur just shrugs internally; nothing like extended hours of pleasure before the sweet edge of release takes you.

“This is the last song,” Merlin grits out as Arthur swallows him whole again, those intense eyes clenching shut. “Please, Arthur, I need to—”

He taps his fingers against Merlin’s cock, letting his teeth graze it the slightest bit. “Just a bit more,” he promises, listening to the wild chorus of the crowd, screaming, listening to the song as it builds to the bridge.

Merlin groans. “I hate you.”

“Not really, you don’t. _Now_.” He starts stroking Merlin in earnest, picking up the pace, and then takes him into his mouth again as Merlin shudders against him.

“Arthur,” Merlin sighs as he rides out his orgasm, and Arthur takes it, swallows it all through  the dazed heat and what he can feel hitting the back of his throat, and realises with some resignation that in all that excitement, he’s come in his trousers. Oh, well. Can’t have everything.

After a few breathless seconds, Merlin grips the table for support and looks down at him in a mixture of awe and absolute disbelief. “I can’t believe you just fucking blew me while I was on the job.”

“Perks.” Arthur grins at him, and makes a show of licking his palm with what’s left of Merlin’s spunk, sucking every last drop off his finger.

Merlin’s eyes are dark. “Jesus,” he breathes. “You insatiable little fuck.”

“That I am.” He buttons up Merlin’s jeans and gives him one last wink. “Now that your song is wrapping up, I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Laughing, Merlin flicks his ear and thumbs his cheek, looking longingly at Arthur’s lips, which he assumes are red, swollen, and give him the impression of possibly being the most well-fucked man now in the club. “Does your offer still stand?”

Arthur looks down himself and coughs. “That one particular thing isn’t standing any longer, but if you’re referring to my offer to follow me home... would you like to?”

“Fuck yes,” Merlin chuckles, flashing him a brilliant smile and looks away from Arthur at the crowd. “Your mouth is very persuasive. I’ll meet you out the front in five.”

“Deal.” Arthur kisses the front of Merlin’s jeans a last time, laughs, and ducks under the table. “It has been an interesting night, Merlin, and it’s only _just_ begun.”


End file.
